the heart is just a bloody motor
by she.daydreams.in.colour
Summary: A wise man said it well enough once: the heart is just a bloody motor, the head is meant to drive. Enzo/Caroline/Klaus
1. Rolling in the Deep

A/N: I had Boyce Avenue live covers on my playlist after binge watching Narcos this weekend and came up with this. This first part is Carenzo-centric, the second will focus on Klaroline.

 **the heart is just a bloody motor**

 _you had my heart inside of your hand  
and you played it to the beat_

\- Rolling in the Deep, Adele

* * *

"We could have had it all -"

At another place, in another time, maybe they could have.

Maybe he'd have bought a farm in the countryside where they could spend their days riding those Dutch horses she loves so much. Maybe they'd have moved to DC where she'd become a journalist like she'd always dreamed of while he'd take on some nine to five consulting gig that'd be boring as hell but would let him make sure there was a hot, home-cooked meal waiting for her when she got home. Maybe there would even be a kid or two in the picture - dark haired like him, but with their mother's soft blue eyes.

" - but you left."

She didn't even say goodbye. One day she was telling him that she loved him, and he believed it with everything he had. The next day she was in New York, marrying a bloody crime Don who'd met her at a ball a year ago and hadn't gotten her out of his head ever since.

"I did. And I would do it again if I had to."

Was the fact that she did it to save her brother supposed to make him feel better? If it was, then it didn't work. He couldn't give a damn about the fact that the Mikaelsons had almost offed Damon Salvatore's head for losing five million dollars' worth of whatever drugs or guns he'd been ordered to traffic into London, or that Klaus Mikaelson suddenly decided that fine, he wouldn't go after Salvatore if she stayed in New York and married him.

All he knew was that he lost everything the day he lost her - and he couldn't even do anything about it because he was nothing but a good man making enough by an honest living.

The most important part of that statement being, " _he was_ _nothing_."

"Well then, Mrs. Mikaelson. We'll just have to see who's left standing after this war, won't we?"

Oh, he made sure things changed, really, he did. He was so far from 'nothing' now. He'd worked the last half a decade climbing the lawbreaking ladder, paying his dues, making a name for himself. Now he was capo bastone, a boss in his own right, with the blood of over five hundred men on his hands and the money and power of Arcadius Ferrio and the Italian mafia resolutely behind him.

He could take New York if he wanted to - and he wanted exactly that - and even the fucking Mikaelsons knew better than to say that he didn't stand a chance. He could make it rain blood and bullets and he had enough men and money and the thirst to keep on going until either he or they were dead.

"Enzo – "

But Christ… it hurt. After five goddamned years, it still hurt. Hearing her say his name like that, and knowing that no matter how many times he tells himself that he hates her for leaving and tearing his world apart and turning him into the monster that he is now, it would never be enough.

To make him forget that familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla that fills both his dreams and nightmares every night.

To stop him from wanting to take her into his arms right this moment, and feel the warmth of her lips against his again.

To drown out the words that that stubborn beating thing in his chest keeps on saying.

 _[ I love you I love you I love you and if you knew how bloody much I want to take you and run from all of this and start over again - ]_

"Just tell me something, Caroline."

He grabs her arm. She flinches at his touch, tries to draw back; but he doesn't let go. He's holding her so tight and he doesn't know if it's because he's angry enough to want to hurt her or if it's because he's that damned scared of losing her again.

"I can't – please, Enzo, I have to go, if they see me with you -"

"Are you happy with him?"

She stops struggling, arm slacking as her gaze slowly rises to meet his. Audobon Boulevard is abuzz with a thousand other people, but silence between them is almost deafening.

He doesn't miss the tear that slips from her eye before she pulls her arm out of his grasp and walks away.


	2. Iris

A/N: For Caryn (jeweljessicajones at tumblr). I miss you too! :)

 **the heart is just a bloody motor**

 _and you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
_ _or the moment of truth in your lies_

\- iris, goo goo dolls

* * *

"He's here."

He'd done this a thousand times in his thirty five year lifetime – sat inside a blacked-out SUV, chin propped broodingly on his hand, eyes trained at the fading city skyline as he listened to his brother speak of another threat that they had to take care of – and yet he can't remember a time that'd been as grim as this.

"He's made a move?"

"No. He's stayed put at Westway for the most part since he got here last night, but Vincent says the men keep coming. Fifty more this afternoon."

He doesn't even dare try to think that his family's hold on New York is secure, or that this is something he can downplay. Lorenzo Julian is the biggest threat he's ever had to face, and the git has everything he needs to topple the Mikaelson name down if they don't play it right.

They still have the upper hand - but in war empires have fallen on the back of a single mistake.

"Send word to all your capos. No one is to engage Julian's men, unless they fire first. Tomorrow send an emissary to Enzo – tell him I want to meet with him."

"Nik..."

"The man didn't become Cade Ferrio's capo bastone by being daft, Finn. We aren't going to get him with one try and I -"

"Nik - he spoke to Caroline today."

He feels a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. He tries to take a breath in, calm the wave of cold terror that's suddenly washed all over him – but he can't move, and the words hang limply in the thick silence. Even as his face remains stoic Finn can clearly see… _what would he call it? Fear? Anger? Anguish?_... in his brother's eyes.

"… He caught her at Audobon on the way back to the shop after lunch. She seemed surprised to see him but got that helper girl who was with her to go ahead and they spoke for a few minutes. He had his hands on her at one point, but then she pulled away and left..."

He doesn't speak for the rest of the drive back to Bridge Hollow.

-o-

When he gets home, she doesn't even notice it. He usually lets her know that he's already there if she doesn't hear him come in first, but tonight, for some reason, he just leans tiredly on the wall and quietly watches her from the doorway.

She's in the kitchen chopping an assortment of vegetables. He knows that something is different from the way she moves - each motion of her hand seems unsure, shambling, as though she's just willing herself to do something that she has to, even when she's all tired or feeling unwell. Hell, he had half the mind to want to walk to her and take that knife away before she bloody cuts herself; and he would have done just that if she hadn't stopped and put the knife down onto the cutting board herself.

The clanging of metal meeting wood doesn't mask the sound of the deep breath she takes. The next thing he knows, tears have spilt from her eyes and she's muffling rasp sobs with her hands.

He's never felt so sick of himself.

[ _You wanted her because she was beautiful and strong and full of light, goddammit, and now she's spent and broken and look at what you've fucking done._ ]

He wants to run and take her in his arms and tell her not to cry and tell her that whatever the matter is, he'll take care of it, he'll take care of her - but for all that Niklaus Mikaelson is pride and strength and power, the only thing he feels now is helplessness.

[… _But those tears aren't for you. They're for the man she loves. The man you took her from, the man who will take her back._ ]

"Caroline - "

She jumps back in surprise, head quickly turning to his direction. She immediately wipes the tears from her eyes when she sees him.

"Klaus! I-I'm sorry, I didn't hear – I was chopping some onions, I was thinking beef stir fry for dinner…"

She tries to smile, mumbling something about hating how onions easily made her tear up as she walks up to him and affords him a quick kiss. He tries to feel it linger in his lips [ _She's kissing you_ ] but it's not as warm as he remembers it in recent memory.

Or has it always been cold in the first place?

[ _She's kissing you... because she knows it's what you want and she is your wife and she has to do it. Do you think she'd kiss you if it wasn't to keep you from hunting down Damon Salvatore?_ ]

She says something about him getting a change of clothes and dinner being ready in an hour or so. He nods even when he doesn't understand what she's saying anymore and he's just looking at her face and trying to find even the slightest hint of genuine happiness in her smile while something bitter rises to his throat.

[ _Why is everything suddenly about what she wants, anyway? You're Niklaus fucking Mikaelson, isn't it supposed to be about what YOU want?_ ]

" - No, don't bother. I don't want to have dinner tonight."

She's still smiling. Her eyes shift to the meat and vegetables on the counter, but she keeps quiet.

"I just want to sleep."


End file.
